


Wanton

by Daemon_Dean1313



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other, Self insertion, mention of wincest, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 04:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daemon_Dean1313/pseuds/Daemon_Dean1313
Summary: Sam is missing genderbent!Ruby





	Wanton

The skeezy feel of motel carpet on his bare feet made Sam wince. Naked(with Dean away on a beer run or some damn thing) he stood staring at his duffle on the floor. Head bowed, his wet hair plastered cooly to his face and neck, sending rivulets of chill water trickling down. He shivered. It wasn't the cold air, oh no, not with his cock arcing up in front of him. The same ache, the one that never really went away no matter what he did.  
His eyes were clear grey, and weary when he raised his head and squared his shoulders. Bending down, he unzipped the duffle and pulled out a second long black bag. What he pulled out could be misconstrued as a weapon at a fast glance. Black and heavy, it resembled a flexible twelve-inchlong police baton, handled and hilted. On closer inspection, you could see the nine inches above the hilt to be phallic. He pulled out a bottle of lube and stared into the maw of the bag. Nothing else came to mind. He zipped it closed almost viciously.  
Whipping back the top blankets he laid down on the bed, the scratchiness of the industrial washed fitted sheet rasping across his skin. He lay half on his side, his ass towards the door. Dean would appreciate the view, he was sure. He drizzled the thick lube onto the first two fingers of his right hand then, reaching behind, he pressed his lips together as they slid in. His cock bounced at the entry. He stretched his asshole with his fingers, mouth going slack as he penetrated. Fingers working in and out, he popped the fleshy ring, stretching it when he spread his fingers. He shuddered and twitched as he finger fucked his asshole until it was compliant. Panting lightly through open lips, he looked for the baton, the sight of it flooding his mouth with warm saliva. He swallowed hard. 

The rubbery shaft he slicked well with lube, and still balanced on his side, he maneuvered it behind him. Lower lip caught between his teeth, he nudged the head against his asshole, rubbing it, pushing it. The rounded head slid in with burning pain that made him groan, answered by yet another thump of his swelling cock. It now twitched on the bed ahead of him, each scrape of the sheet a miserable pleasure, pre-cum smearing lightly on the coarse fabrics. He twisted the dildo's head inside, hissing with the sensation. Slowly he worked it inside, gripping the black length, wiggling it, pushing it in. His abs tensed, the muscles standing out in the strain of the sensation. Through tightly pressed lips, he whimpered, groaned as he filled himself, inch by inch. Shivering muscles belied his tension, he had slowly worked 3/4 of the baton up his ass and the fullness of it sent his eyes rolling. With an indrawn shuddering breath he rolled onto his back, slinging one long muscled leg over the side of the mattress. Twisting to reach under himself, he propped the hilt of the semi-flexible baton against the bed. His spine arched and he moaned aloud. Slowly he rolled his pelvis, fucking himself down onto the baton, long muscled body twitching and spasming with the pleasure of the invasion. 

He grips his cock savagely and begins to pump it in time with the slow undulation of his hips. Breath coming in jerky sobs, half words fall from his lips as he masturbates, writhing his hips on the bed, working the baton in deeper still. He scrapes his fingernails down his neck, over his collarbone to rake over a tender nipple. His vocalizations are louder now, wrenched from unwilling lips. He's fucking himself mercilessly. He raked his thumb across the head of his cock, digging the ball of it into the leaking urethra as he cranked his shaft. A fleeting regret that he hadn't gotten a sounding rod crosses his mind.  
His body is sheened with sweat, writhing, wanton on the braced baton shoved up between his tight ass cheeks. "Please, oh please oh please" The ache is deep inside him, tearing him apart. Baring his teeth, with a cry of need he bites down savagely on his tender inner cheek, flooding his mouth with blood and pain. It's not HIS blood though. The taste digs his need deeper, he groans "Ruby".

He's screwed the baton, almost eight inches of it into his ass, his rotating hips and bending the black pliant fuckstick deep into his body pressing against his hot spot. He cries out, sobbing with need, with a burning that can't be slaked by mere fucking, biting again at his wounded inner cheek to draw more blood.  
He's desperate. He jams his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them gagging himself as he goes down on them.  
It's not enough. It's never enough. He sobs as he sucks his fingers, then pulls them once again from his open wet mouth with a gasp. His cock is hard enough to split, balls drawn up and tense. Feeling like a dirty whore and loving it hating himself for loving it, he grinds down, muscled body vibrating with tension. The back of his hand clenched and pistoning on his dick is spattered with the clear nectar of precum. He's close, so close. His fingers roll over the tip of his glans as he jacks off. It hits, and he half sits up, the latex rod in his ass pushing hard as he convulses with his mouth wide and screaming silently as he spasms. The cum spatters in rhythmic gouts over the back of his hand, tears leaking from the corners of his tightly closed eyes. He is the epitome of hurt me porn wrapped up in muscle and sorrow. He spasms like a man being stabbed, over and over, his cries gagged in the back of his throat until he falls back onto the overbleached sheets. A sheen of sweat highlights the curve of his muscles, his taut stomach hitching in shuddering breaths through an open, wet-lipped mouth that is too pretty not to have a dick shoved in it.  
Before the cum cools, sucks the cum off his fingers, tasting it as it mixes with the blood. He sobs once, tear tracking his face.  
He simply lays there, knowing Dean will be back any moment. His brother will be more than delighted to see Sam all ready to go, covered in his own cum.  
Probably walk up, toss whatever he has in his hands on the side, unzip his fly and grabbing Sam's hair shove his cock into his mouth.  
Maybe he'll fuck him, maybe he'll just use the baton and have Sam suck him off.  
All Sam knows is that his brother will use him roughly, because he knows, that is what Sam is begging for.  
He thinks Sam is cured.  
His cock twitches, and Sam Winchester whispers, "Ruby."


End file.
